


Terms of Surrender

by williamspockspeare



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Choking, Consensual Non-Consent, Dildos, Dom/sub Undertones, Enthusiastic Consent, Episode: s02e10 Mirror Mirror, Explicit Consent, Fingering, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Love, Please read the author's note for clarification on the following tags:, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rape Roleplay, Romance, Safewords, Smut, Spock role playing as Mirror Spock, Tenderness, Trans Jim Kirk, a lil hand kink, but in a fighting way not a sexy way lol, followed by:, like too much plot but whatever, references to, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27017371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamspockspeare/pseuds/williamspockspeare
Summary: When Jim and Spock's mirror-verse role play takes a turn for the worse, they discover that the most dangerous thrill is being vulnerable with each other.(Please read the tags and the summary in the notes as needed!)
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Mirror Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 25
Kudos: 77





	1. Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by almaasi’s amazing Garashir fic ‘Code for Consent’, please check that out. 
> 
> So…this is a very different kinda fic for me, but hey! Hope you all enjoy nonetheless.  
> If you haven’t already, PLEASE READ THE TAGS. 
> 
> Here is a brief summary for those who may need it (SPOILERS): Jim and Spock are engaging in a role play where Spock is pretending to be his mirror version. In the role play, they engage in some consensual non-con activity (fingering, and the lead up to penetrative sex). While Jim is completely into it, they stop when Spock is upset by how convincing Jim’s refusal/non-consent in the role play is. In the second chapter they talk out their feelings, and have explicitly enthusiastic sex. 
> 
> Ok thx bye.

It was too late.

The door to the captain’s quarters swished shut, a noise designed to be soft, unassuming. But the shutting door announced the entrance of an intruder, one with whom Jim was now trapped.

And that made it distinctly menacing.

The events had moved too fast for Jim to remember all the details. A temporal rift, the emergence of a ship, a strange parallel of his own. Its mirror. The Enterprise had been boarded, the crew all but destroyed by their crueller counterparts. Despite all he had done, his better laid plans, his honourable aspirations to die at the helm of his ship, Jim found himself trapped here, in his bedroom, a far more domestic battlefield, with the one man who could weaponize intimacy better than he.

_Damn it. Why did he have to shave the beard?_

The chirp of the automated lock sounded. Jim darted backward, rushed for the signalling panel on his desk.

“Calling for security will do you no good, captain. I very much doubt there are any security officers left to aid you.”

Jim felt a lick of cold run down his back. Sweat, or fear he wasn’t sure. He didn’t turn around, and didn’t stop; fumbled to try the comm. switch. There was always a way, he didn’t believe in…

“You won’t get away with this.” His captain’s tone, usually reliable, wavered as he spoke. “McCoy will think of something, or Uhura will patch through the interference you set up. Or—or Scotty will—”

“Do you think me so simple?” The voice stung like venom, incapacitating. It turned his stomach into a coil of snakes. “I have neutralized every possibility of your success. None of your officers pose any threat to me.”

The slow, solid thump of his polished boots across the carpet. Jim bit down on his tongue, cursed the fluttering of his heart as the malicious figure drew ever closer.

A soft, scornful laugh.

“Not even your precious first officer can save you now.”

Jim whipped around. And perhaps that was a mistake, because now he was face to face with his enemy.

And what an enemy Spock was.

With his goatee shaven, his scars concealed, there was scarcely a fraction of physical difference between this man and the Vulcan Jim called his friend. In fact, mere hours before, Jim had indeed believed this was his Spock, and had told him their plans, inadvertently handing over the power to conquer his ship.

But now, disguises and pretences thrown aside, the difference was clearer than a mirror’s glass. Of the ocean of Spock’s better qualities – his gentleness, his goodness, decency, kindness, friendly humour, all the things Jim loved – this bloodthirsty creature possessed not a drop.

Meeting his hollow gaze, Jim felt himself trembling in anger, not fear.

“What have you done with Spock?”

The dark eyes glittered. “I am Spock.”

“Where is he?”

“Do not concern yourself with him. He was unnecessary.”

_Was –_ the word stuttered through Jim’s heart. _No, he couldn’t have…_

This Spock smirked, no doubt at the captain’s look of horror. “I believe I will serve in his place quite seamlessly.”

“You will never take his place!”

Anger consumed him, made him forget the danger this Vulcan presented. He thundered forward.

“Is that your motive for coming here? Jealousy? Or did you finally realize that my Spock is a better man than you’ll ever be and couldn’t handle it?”

“Please, captain. You are wasting your time, and your breath. Brave speeches may aid you against computers and those with weaker minds, but they will not work against me.”

There was no doubt of that.

They were much closer than before, than they had ever been, in fact. Jim was keenly aware that Spock could reach out and seize him. Yet he did not. This fiend understood the power of anticipation, clearly.

Jim’s gaze danced between Spock’s dark eyes, which held his in a steady, unyielding stare.

“What do you want, then?” His mouth was dry; he swallowed hard. “You’ve taken over the ship. What do you need me for?”

“You underestimate your value, Captain Kirk.”

His hand rose from his side. Jim flinched, instinctively, but Spock merely moved it to his collar, undid one fastening at the throat.

A powerful move. To begin to shed one’s armour before entering the fight.

“There are certain command codes not listed your databases. Codes that will be necessary to access the full function of the ship.”

“Other officers know those codes.” Some primal instinct within was going into panicked overdrive; searching for some way out of here. “You don’t need me for that.”

“No,” Spock conceded. “But you are not a typical officer. You are a brilliant tactician, a soldier. Someone whom Starfleet respects, and relies upon.”

“But alone, against Starfleet, one man cannot hope to win.”

“I do not think you believe that. The power of the individual effort is a common thread through both versions of your life. Additionally, I believe I have just demonstrated the effectiveness of one man’s might against that of a Federation.”

Spock stepped forward, Jim stepped back, found himself effectively cornered against his desk.

“One man can change the present, captain, as you once told me.” One brow arched cruelly. “But not always for good.”

“By that logic, what’s stopping you from conquering the Federation yourself?”

Jim placed a hand behind him on the desk, searched for something on it to use as a weapon. But there was nothing there. _Damn!_

“If you’re so assured of your universe’s might, why extend your mercy to me?” He huffed. “Wouldn’t your own Captain Kirk be a better choice to use in my place?”

“My Kirk is dead.”

Whatever retort Jim had been expecting, it had not been that. He stopped. Spock’s gaze betrayed nothing, and yet Jim understood.

“The Tantalus field.”

“A most efficient device.” A small scoff. “You need not pity him, captain. Of his possible ends, it was a significantly less painful one than most.”

“It’s not him I pity.”

There was something so strange in hearing of your own death, even if it was your brutal counterpart. It was not as though Jim hadn’t imagined the possibility, even expected it. He had been the one to tell this Spock of the Tantalus field, after all. Change often came with a bloody price.

Jim shook his head. “I thought you’d find a way. You out of anyone would have known how to reach him. I’d hoped you would… that there would be some logic to saving his life. He was your friend.”

“He was not my friend.”

The refusal was cold. For all this man’s sneers and smug posturing, this was the first trace of real emotion he had let slip through his controls.

“He was a worthy opponent, a capable officer. But only that.”

“Why, Mr. Spock. I thought you were finished lying.”

His assessment was right. Jim saw the slight widening of his eyes, the tell. Then it disappeared again beneath the mask.

But it was not the same expression as before.

Spock looked away.

“I do not stoop to lies.” A wry twitch of his lips. Jim didn’t know this Spock very well, but in his own, he might have called this expression one of regret. “There is no place for friendship in my universe.”

Jim nodded, gently. “Then you do envy us.”

The dark gaze pierced into his. Any trace of ruefulness disappeared behind a wall of jagged ice.

“Envy you? This passive universe – envy you? What do you have that is superior? You accept only what is given to you, dream of nothing more.”

His hand snatched a fistful of Jim’s uniform, dragged him perilously close. Jim struggled to maintain his composure. So near, he could no longer read his enemy’s expression, see clearly into his eyes. All that existed was his low, rough voice, the breath pooling on his lips, and the shrinking space between them.

“Your mind is so narrow. You have not thought of the obvious contradictions. You think that because I was not my captain’s lackey that we must therefore have been enemies? That because I am not shy, and malleable, and cowardly like your Vulcan that I could never attract a captain’s attention? Or possess one for myself?”

Spock’s hand shot up Jim’s chest, his fingers raked down his neck with a vulgar familiarity.

Something was smouldering in Jim’s stomach. Something wrong, and yet…

“No, I…I didn’t realize—”

“Of course you did not realize!” It was a growl. The grip tightened around his throat. “There is nothing separating my universe from yours except cowardice, and your blind, foolish obedience to arbitrary rules. But I have no allegiance to that which chokes my freedom, and now I may reap the benefits of destroying your precious regulations.”

His thumb turned into Jim’s neck, pressed with dangerous precision against his larynx.

“Captain. What need have I to envy your universe? It is mine to plunder.”

Jim felt something rush over him. The natural chemical processes associated with adrenaline, his own Spock might have said. Fear, this one would have surmised, or dread.

Yes, that was true. He was afraid. But there was more than just fear coursing through him.

He looped his arm quickly under Spock’s, twisted to free himself from the stranglehold. The fingers slipped from his neck, but found the sleeve of his uniform, hooked into his arm as Jim tried to escape.

Spock dragged him backwards.

The cry from Jim’s lips was smothered into a leather-gloved hand, clamping around his mouth like a vice. Against his ribs, Jim felt the unmistakable point of a knife.

Caught. His hands were free, and yet they were useless. If he tried to struggle, he knew the blade would turn into his flesh, and positioned as it was under his rib cage, it would mean his life.

If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Jim might have found the method of his capture fascinating.

A low hum. Sneering – self-congratulatory. Jim felt it reverberate as much as he heard it; his enemy’s mouth settling dangerously close behind his left ear.

“Weakling.” Spock’s breath ghosted down the side of Jim’s neck. “Has your little performance of bravery done you any good?”

Jim jerked his head. Spock seemed to understand, the gloved hand lowering enough to free his mouth.

“You haven’t—won,” he managed.

A soft laugh.

“No, I have not.”

The knife pressed into Jim’s back. He could almost feel the smirk grow behind him.

“Not yet.”

Spock’s hand suddenly lunged for Jim’s mouth. There was no way to recoil, the knife made sure of that. So he did what he could.

He bit down.

It seemed to work. With a hiss, Spock pulled away, leaving Jim with the leather glove between his teeth. He spat it onto the floor.

Though maybe he had just played into his hand, quite literally.

Spock’s now bare fingertips traced his jaw, his face. They rolled his bottom lip.

“Taste me.”

Jim scoffed. “Fuck y—auhh!”

He nearly gagged, as Spock’s fingers shot past the barrier of his lips, stroked down the length of his tongue. The sensation was so startling, so invasive and bold that Jim barely had time to react before they pulled away again, slick with his saliva.

“Disobedient, I see.” A small purr of laughter. Spock nosed behind his ear. “I would have thought a Starfleet captain would know how to take orders.”

Jim found himself unable to respond. His mind was spinning. The dry, almost sour taste of this man’s skin infected his mouth.

God, what the fuck was this? A rolling sea of chaotic thought was crashing over him. He felt powerless, infinitesimal, trapped. No one had ever treated him so callously, as though his refusal, his consent meant nothing. It was horrifying, degrading.

And kind of exciting. 

A shaky breath sucked into his body, as Spock’s teeth ran along the line of his neck. Not hard, not violent – but Jim was beginning to learn that nothing about this encounter could be trusted.

“What—whatever you want,” he stammered, trying to ignore how this felt, Spock’s mouth closing over his skin, sucking his earlobe, his neck—now, the touch of his tongue, _oh_ —! “You _do_ want something from me. You wouldn’t have left me alive otherwise.”

The lips on his neck curved upward. “How perceptive.”

“Then you know you need my cooperation. I’m willing to hear you out. My ship, my command, whatever it is. I’ll talk. I’ll negotiate for it.”

But Spock said nothing. His incisors kept nipping at his flesh. 

“Please,” Jim hissed. These games were frustrating, in more ways than one. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Have I been so inscrutable? Then let me be clear.”

Suddenly, Jim found himself spun around in Spock’s arms, now face-to-face, mere inches from him.

“I have taken all that I need to rule your universe. All I wish to possess now is you.”

If any confirmation was needed, Jim could feel it pressing hard into his thigh.

His cheeks burned. Horror churned in his stomach, made him feel panicked and nauseous and lightheaded all at once. This fiend wanted to have him – to fuck him! _Merciful stars!_ All the better instincts within him were screaming to flee, to fight, to get out of here, now.

Yet all that fear was fuelling another part of himself, a part perhaps as human as the rest, though humanity shrunk from acknowledging it. A part that turned fear into excitement, the perverse into sick, irrational pleasure.

The way this Spock was looking at him was making him wet.

“Captain.” This Spock’s voice was so rough, so much hungrier than the one Jim knew. His hands brushed his waist. “You belong to me.”

“No.”

Jim knocked his touch aside. What the hell was he doing, even considering this? This was an invader, a traitor, an enemy! This wasn’t right. This wasn’t his Spock. This couldn’t happen – he was a Starfleet officer, they were from the wrong universe, he had only found the courage to confess his love to his own Spock a few months before. He couldn’t just throw that aside—couldn’t—

Those rules didn’t exist in the mirror universe.

Spock twisted the hand Jim used to bat him away, slammed it and him back into the wall. The air was knocked from his lungs; Jim fought for breath, as Spock pressed against him, conquered more and more of what little space he had.

“You are in no position to resist me.”

Jim lunged forward, grabbed for the knife in Spock’s free hand. But Spock pulled back in time, threw the knife over his shoulder.

“Don’t do this.” He heard his voice trembling. He struck at Spock’s chest, the reflex of a trapped animal. Spock barely flinched. “Please. It doesn’t have to be like this. You…you could have anyone you wanted, I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Then this should be rather simple.”

Spock rolled his hips forward, grinding into Jim’s pelvis. His breath stuttered. The illicit sensation of Spock’s erection against him felt so good. God, and he was so hard already, Jim could feel its eagerness pressing into him, even through the barrier of clothing.

_Fuck. No, stop it, Jim, you can’t…_

Spock leaned closer, his breath hot, lustful.

“It was necessary to dispose of my captain. You would not understand my reasons. But I have regretted the necessity. I have…” He sighed, his tongue licking up Jim’s neck, seeming to savour the taste. “Oh, I have missed this body.”

“You’ve never had it.” Jim squirmed a bit, still pinned. “And you never will.”

“Mm. You are so like him. So brash, and self-assured. So well-proportioned.” He pulled away, his gaze heavy with desire. “With such exquisite vulnerabilities.”

This close, held in place as he was, Jim had no clear vantage of his opponent, could only feel that Spock’s hips were no longer pressing into his.

It was far too late when he felt Spock’s hand slip past the waistband of his pants, his underwear.

Jim writhed, startled, but it was no use. He was sure Spock saw the painfully transparent change of expression wash over him as Spock’s hand traced over his pubic bone, just as Jim could see the glimmer of satisfaction curl his lips. Spock’s fingers, still wet from Jim’s tongue, sunk into the hollow of his vulva.

It was impossible, in that moment, to breathe.

“Mm. As I suspected.” A teasing lift of his wicked brow. “You and my captain are not so different after all.”

Jim’s voice caught in a breathy moan, as the pads of Spock’s fingertips found his clitoris. _Fuck…oh my God._ There was such command in how his fingers circled him, slow, but insistent in their goal.

Spock’s eyes burned into him. As though he was observing, recording, enjoying every small detail of Jim’s growing arousal. This was more than titillation, mere teasing. A very dangerous game. It had been so long since Jim had been touched like this, and longer still since he’d been touched so—

No. _Shit!_ This shouldn’t be happening. This wasn’t right, this couldn’t continue.

But – _oh_ , _yes_ – it was continuing, and already waves of arousal were threatening to capsize his resolve. And he knew that was what this man wanted.

“N-no,” Jim gasped, his gaze rolling backward for a moment, as the fingers stroked his clit with agonizing precision. “No, stop, I—unhh, I can’t—”

“You need do nothing. I need no assistance to make you my own.”

A whimper escaped him. How could this evil touch make him feel so good? It was sick. This had to stop - if he didn’t get a hold of himself soon, Jim knew there would be no going back.

He arched away from Spock’s touch as best he could. He thrashed against his restraints, kicked and finally tore himself from the wall.

“I don’t want you, I don’t—love you, I— _ah! ah!_ —I don’t belong to you, I’m…I love Spock, I belong to Spock, not you.”

“But I am Spock.”

“ _No_.” The word was fiercer than he meant it. So be it. Panting, Jim bared his teeth, snarled back at the beast. “No. You will never be him. You will never be what he is to me.”

“And what is he to you?”

Spock pulled his hand away sharply. An involuntary gasp fell from Jim’s lips – the brainless lustful reflex within wanting more. He found himself out of breath, flushed, damp with sweat and arousal.

They had gone too far already.

The lapse allowed Spock to catch him roughly by the front of his shirt.

“What value does your precious first officer have that I do not? Or do you like him how he is – silent, obedient? A pathetic pet for you to order about as you please, who bends to your will, does whatever you want?”

“He is not my pet.”

“Oh, no, I forgot. You love him.”

The mocking in his voice stung.

“I do love him!”

“I am certain of it. Every master loves their servant. Every child favours his newest toy. I know your reputation, captain.”

“You don’t know me.” Jim gripped the hand that gripped him, tried to wrench it loose. “I’m not the Kirk you killed. And it isn’t my fault if he treated you like a servant.”

“Be silent!” The dark eyes flashed; Jim knew he’d hit the right target. “You have no moral authority over your counterpart. Just because you keep men instead of women in your bed, at your side, do you think yourself superior? Virtuous?”

“I am better than him.”

“Hypocrite. You covet your authority, just as he did. You hate dissent as any powerful man should. That coward who shares my name is simply afraid to show you any resistance. And you profit from his fear, no matter what you tell yourself.” He sneered. “If that is the love which you place on so high a pedestal, than your universe is more unintelligent than I imagined.”

Of course that was a lie. Every part of Jim rejected the words. This was a trick, a manipulation to turn him from the Federation, from his friends, from the man he loved.

But every good lie had a measure of truth.

The real Spock, from his universe, had given Jim so much, even in such little time since they had confessed their mutual attraction for each other. Jim had rarely felt so doted upon by a lover, so adored as in these past few months. There was nothing he wanted for, nothing Spock did not fulfil.

Had he fulfilled all these needs for Spock? Was his tenderness, what Jim believed to be love, just well disguised loyalty, Vulcan devotion, or subservience to the whims of his superior officer? Underneath the performance, the routine, did Spock really find their relationship satisfactory?

And could he be surprised if the answer came back negative?

There was no time for self-reflection.

Spock shook him once, roughly. “You are not protesting.”

“It doesn’t matter what my relationship is with my Spock. You’re still my enemy. Nothing changes that.”

“Oh? But you seemed so willing to change my mind a moment ago. How soon you’ve abandoned all your talk about my potential for good.”

“What good do think this will bring either of us?”

“There is much you could give me.” His free hand ghosted over Jim’s cheek; Jim jerked his head away. “You carry quite the bounty, captain. I was under the impression we might become lovers.”

A bark of laughter tore from his throat. Jim lashed forward, managed to gain a half-inch of space away from where Spock had kept him cornered.

“A pretty poor impression, I’d say.”

“Not so. We are connected, James Kirk, no matter our universe. We are _t’hy’lara_ , after all.”

Something about the Vulcan endearment, the memories it evoked of a softer, shyer man, timid confessions, drove home the fact that that Spock, _his Spock_ was dead. And the reality that this monstrous creature was all that was left of his beautiful, perfect love made Jim’s blood turn to fire.

Wrenching free of Spock’s grasp, Jim slammed a hand around his throat. Spock’s eyes widened, nostrils flared as Jim drove him to his knees.

“You are _nothing_ to me,” Jim snarled, ferocity blazing through his common sense, his ethics, instructing him to crush the man before him into powder. “You’re pathetic, and sick. You don’t deserve to use the word _t’hy’la_ – I’m surprised it doesn’t burn you to say it, you’re so unworthy of the syllables.”

“C-captain,” he gasped.

“Fuck you. Fuck you and all your kind, and what you’ve done to us. Why did you come here? What good did you think you could find? You should’ve rotted where you were, at the hands of your own miserable universe!”

“Instead I shall die at yours. Yes, murdered at the hands of the good, saintly captain. There is poetry in that.”

And Jim realized that was not an exaggeration. His knuckles were white, fingers clamped around Spock’s jugular, locked in primal, brainless bloodlust. Every bit as monstrous as the man at his feet.

He let go at once.

“Spock…” He felt dazed. What was he doing? Shit, he shouldn’t have done that – why had he let himself go so far? “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Be quiet.”

He was pulled into Spock’s arms. Their lips crashed together, open-mouthed, desperate, depraved. This was a collision. A battle. And he was losing. 

Jim felt himself go limp as his barricades fell, and let Spock devastate him.

After several timeless moments, Spock withdrew, so that they were panting, nose to nose. Spock held him in a strange cradle-like posture, a helpless animal. 

“You are mine, James Kirk. You belong to me.”

Defeat. Jim felt heavy with it, weighed down with chains. For it was true.

But to admit that was to surrender his very soul.

“Spock,” he whispered, helplessly.

“Your shirt. Remove it.”

Jim shook his head.

The fabric ripped from his torso. Hands grasped at his flesh, charted every inch as though he could not bear to leave any part unconquered. Jim tipped his head backward, as Spock licked at his chest, bit and teased the flesh of his collar.

He stopped recording the infractions. Let each touch and cruel caress blend together. They were stumbling through the room. His hands moved to clutch Spock, not to fight this, but to stay with him.

The sheets were cool against his back, as Spock pushed him down into his bed.

His hand slid once again beneath Jim’s underwear, sunk into his sex.

“You want me. Admit it.”

Jim let free a rush of air, not enough sound to qualify as a moan. “No.”

Still, he put up no resistance as Spock pulled aside the rest of his clothes, left him naked, vulnerable beneath him. Cool air swept over his flesh, heightening his awareness that there was nothing standing between them now. No pretences, no modesty, nothing.

“Yes, you do.”

The touch returned.

It was relentless. Hellish. Over and over, back and forth across his clit, the fingers moved with a roughness that was almost dismissive, like it didn’t matter how hard or how messy this became, only that Spock took and took and took.

It was heaven.

Jim’s eyes fluttered closed, his brow furrowing in exquisite affliction, as the fingers dipped downward, thrust into him. _Fuck._ He bit down onto his lip so hard he felt it break.

“Say you want me,” Spock snarled. “Admit that you enjoy this. Or I will not allow you to.”

He didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t think he could, nor did he even want to. Not because it would protect his modesty somehow, or even because he didn’t want this. No. He had long since accepted that he did.

“No, I _don’t_ ,” Jim whispered, nevertheless. “Please let me go. Don’t do this to me.”

A wave of unbridled lust was cresting within. Morality, right and wrong were shedding from him like a snakeskin, and all he knew was the need, the animal urge for more.

Spock was right. He was too comfortable with holding command, too used to having his whims followed, obeyed. He had never, ever been fucked like this, as though he didn’t matter at all, as though he were merely a toy, a vessel. There was something awfully erotic about suddenly being stripped of all control.

If he looked at Spock now, he might never want it back.

The fingers accelerated their pace, thrusting into him with pernicious speed.

Jim felt his hips buck upward, colliding the heel of Spock’s hand into his pubic mound. It was too late to stop biology from taking over. Tears were welling in his eyes. This was happening – and he wanted to feel every fucking ounce of indignity there was to be had.

“You are mine. Say it. Say it!”

“No. No, oh, God, please, stop! _”_

The words were ragged, his voice saturated with breathy moans. He couldn’t think. Thought and sense and reason slipped away, replaced by a pounding drumbeat of the word he would not say. _Yes, yes, yes!_

“Jim.”

Legs twitched, his hands stretched and reached in profitless search, as though pleasure hung in the air, tangible, graspable.

“ _Please_.” He practically sobbed. “Ohh, no.”

He was so close. A tear slipped down one cheek, over-eager, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. So close, so…

Spock’s hand pulled away.

A cry of outrage ripped from Jim’s throat. Every fibre in his being rejected this loss; the excess of adrenaline exploded into anger.

“What the hell are—?!”

Suddenly, he was flipped onto his stomach, his face colliding with the rumpled sheets.

“I warned you not to resist me, Kirk.”

Spock lowered onto him, his weight like a cage. Jim’s breath hitched. The unmistakable pressure of an erection dragged up his flesh. Swollen. Leaking onto his lower back, his ass.

This was no longer just for his pleasure.

“No!”

Jim lost it. With all his strength, he fought Spock, thrashed and writhed, and kicked and screamed.

“No, please! I don’t want this! Let me go, Spock! Don’t hurt me! Let me go!”

Spock wrestled him fiercely downward, blocking his every floundering turn. His hands locked over Jim’s wrists, pinning them above his head. Hot, violent breaths hissed behind his head – Spock seemed to be fighting just as hard to keep him here as Jim did to escape.

They rammed over and over against each other. Jim could feel the turgid, unyielding force of Spock’s arousal colliding with his ass. All the while, he was thrust forward into the mattress, and by extension, his aching clit rubbed furiously against the sheets.

It was too much.

He threw his head back, crying out as his orgasm swept through him. Caught between the fight and the peak of his pleasure, he was a mess, shuddering, tears streaming down his cheeks, grinding through his climax, and yet still fighting.

This was only the beginning. Oh, God, there was so much more to come. What the hell would Spock do to him? How much farther could he break?

“Please. Oh, Spock! _Please!_ ”

Suddenly, Jim found he could not move. He was still exerting as much force as before, fighting, but it made no effort. Spock, evidently was finished toying with him.

Jim whimpered, tensed. This was happening. A ripple of anticipation ran through him, verging all too close to horror.

But the aggressive action he was expecting didn’t come.

“You want me.”

Spock slid Jim’s hands together, locked his wrists in his left palm. His right traced slowly down the length of Jim’s back. A far more tender sensation than his foreplay had suggested lay in store.

“You are desperate to have me. There is nothing in this universe that holds more dearness to you than to be mine, than to let me have you.” The tips of his fingers brushed at the base of Jim’s spine. And he quietly said, “You do love me.”

“No!” Jim growled, giving a defiant wiggle, which was all he could manage under the circumstances. “You monster. I hate you. If you had any feeling in you at all, you’d let me go!”

A pause. The hand at Jim’s wrists squeezed so hard it stung his skin like a rope burn.

“Jim… _please_.”

The words were barely a whisper, laden with an emotion that did not belong to the mirror universe. That no Spock should ever feel.

Jim swallowed.

“I…I won’t give into your games, if that’s what this is.”

There was no response. The hand on his back had started to tremble.

He turned his head, tried to look back over his shoulder.

“Spock?”

“I…” Jim heard Spock's voice tremble. “Forgive me. Blueberry pie.”

And Spock let him go.

The universe righted itself. The empty, conquered halls of the Enterprise filled once again with its crew complement, the warning klaxons silenced. There was no danger, no parallel universe threat, no invasion, no perversion, no fear.

As Jim sat up, he was captain of his ship again, unquestioned, unchallenged. And the man who sat at the other end of the bed was not the wicked counterpart, but the original, the good, the gentlest version of himself.

His beloved Spock.

Their game was over.

“Is everything ok?”

His beloved had turned away, shoulders drawn tight, his head bowed. Jim scooted forward on the bed, placed a careful hand on his back.

“Sweetheart? Did you hear me?”

Spock nodded.

“Yes. I am just… I—”

The waver Jim had heard in his voice before had split open. Spock was crying.

He appeared to sense Jim’s realization. His posture sunk lower, his face into his hands.

“I am sorry.”

The small, pitiful words went straight to Jim’s heart.

“No! Oh, Spock, no, no, it’s ok!”

Jim moved to brace him, placed his hands on his shoulders. But Spock turned out of his grasp, and buried his face into his chest.

“Spock. Whoa, hey.”

In pulling him close, Spock was inadvertently jabbing the dildo strapped to his waist into Jim’s torso. Which might have been extremely funny, if Jim was not also acutely aware of how badly the man in his arms was shaking.

Leaning away, Jim unclipped the strap from around Spock’s waist, setting the sexual aide to the side.

“There we go. Come here.”

Careful not to overwhelm him, Jim wrapped Spock in his arms. Spock capitulated to his touch at once.

That was worrying. His dear Vulcan was rarely so open in his need for affection. The times before, Spock had been weak with pain, illness, or in the throws of catastrophic mental distress.

Jim hoped their intimate encounter hadn’t proved so dismal as that.

“It’s ok, sweetheart, it’s ok. I’m here.” He ran a gentle hand through his hair. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Again, Spock nodded; though pressed into him, Jim felt it more vigorously this time.

“It is my own fault. I am…overreacting—”

“No. Hey, hey, hey.”

Jim pressed a firm kiss to his forehead.

“You’re not overreacting. Something clearly went wrong, no matter how small. I want to know.”

A shaky sigh. Spock squeezed him a little tighter than before.

“It is foolish. We agreed – we discussed the plot elements before we engaged in the roleplay. I should have been more prepared for—” 

“It was too intense,” Jim surmised, feeling a curl of guilt twist in his chest. “Too explicit. I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have asked—”

“No. That was not the issue at hand.”

Spock held still for a moment. Then, placing a hand on Jim’s arm, he slowly pulled back from their embrace. His eyes were bright with tears, his cheeks flushed green from the emotional exertion.

“I am aware of what I agreed to. And I am aware that you also agreed to the parameters. Enthusiastically.” When Spock’s eyes danced up to him, Jim nodded reassuringly. “It was a game. The object was to maintain the illusion of danger, of non-consent. Thus, the fact that we did so should be counted as a success.”

_Yet neither of us are celebrating_ , Jim thought.

Spock withdrew. His eyes were downward, where he twisted his hands together, without logical end.

“I am also aware that you did not truly fear me. That you were aroused, and pleased with the progression of the scenario. I knew this while it happened. And yet I could not…”

Looking up, Spock’s bottom lip wobbled.

“Jim. You were begging me not to harm you. And I was harming you, even if it was only an illusion. I never…I do not…Jim, I love you, to think that any version of myself would ever violate you—”

“Violate?”

The word left his lips with alarm, jolting through his heart. Jim shook his head frantically.

“No, never! Spock – my dearest Spock! You could never—”

The high whistle of a communication signal sounded.

“ _Bridge to Captain Kirk.”_

Both jumped; Spock withdrew, Jim whipped around to the comm. unit on his desk.

“I thought I asked not to be disturbed during personnel training?” he snapped.

“ _Yes, you did. Apologies, sir,_ ” said the night shift communications officer. “ _But this communiqué has been listed as urgent priority. I thought I should notify you.”_

That, of course, was completely reasonable. Commendable, even. And he would respond, as regulation instructed him to do.

Still. Sometimes he wished the duties of the heart, and those of service didn't keep such close company.

That was the price of returning to reality.

He sighed.

“Thank you, lieutenant. Patch the signal to my quarters. I’ll respond to it manually.”

“ _Aye, sir.”_

“Kirk out.”

Looking back to Spock, he was met with a nervous, teary glance. Any frustration melted from Jim’s heart.

“I’ll settle whatever’s wrong as quickly as I can.” He reached for Spock’s arm, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Don't worry. We’re going to figure this out.”

The corner of Spock’s lips twitched upward. Jim knew why. 

It was a promise they had made to each other many times before.

It had never once been broken.


	2. Pleasure

Perhaps ‘quickly as he could’ had been a tall order.

Jim found his underwear flung half way across the room, his pants in the entirely opposite direction. Not to mention that his uniform shirt had been literally ripped to shreds.

_Why does that always happen to me?_

Finally, having located and pulled a mostly presentable uniform, and smoothing his hair back as much as he could with his hands, Jim plunked down in front of his computer terminal.

“Kirk here.”

The monitor blinked on. The screen showed Ensign Fearon, sitting in their quarters.

“ _Evening, captain!”_ came their cheery voice over the link. “ _How’re you doing?”_

“Er…fine.” Jim frowned. “What’s the emergency?”

_“Emergency? There’s no emergency.”_

Jim blinked.

“This communiqué was listed as urgent priority.”

“ _Oh, yes! It is urgent.”_

“For what reason?”

“ _Well, captain, I was going over the preparations for the new tactical espionage training – you know, those role play scenarios that HQ wants us to do in case we get trapped in a parallel dimension, or like, caught by the Klingons, or—”_

“I’m familiar with Starfleet training protocols, ensign.”

“ _Oh.”_ Their face flushed bright pink. “ _Well, of course you are. I mean, duh, you’re the captain, so you’d obviously—”_

“What is the concern, ensign?”

“ _Right. Well, I was working my way through chapter forty seven of the protocol briefing, and it has a whole section on ‘mirror’ universe training. But they don’t explain anything about what that is. I mean, how am I supposed to training for something I don’t know anything about? It’s just crazy!”_

Jim stared at the screen for a solid fifteen seconds.

“That’s what you comm’d me about? At 2300 hours?”

They simply stared back, the eager look still plastered on their face.

There were some choice words to be had, if he had been that kind of man. And he very nearly said them. But through the computer display, he saw a reflection of himself on his first commission.

Hell, he had probably bothered a lot more people at a lot later hours when he had been that age.

“Did you speak to your supervisor about this?”

“ _Yes, sir. But she said they didn’t know anything about it. ‘Why don’t you ask the captain?’ she said. So I did. Um, I mean, I am.”_

“You’re in command track?”

“ _Yeah! That’s right.”_

Jim pulled one of the PADDs lying on the desk toward him.

“I’ll notify Lieutenant Uhura about your question. You can speak with her about it tomorrow.”

“ _Oh._ ” Their bottom lip jutted out. “ _You mean you’re not going to explain it to me yourself?”_

“That would be out of line, ensign.” His tone was a little sharper than he meant it. Seeing them deflate, he sighed, walked himself back. “It wouldn’t be appropriate at the moment. I’m… in the middle of an espionage exercise. A mirror universe practicum, in fact.”

“ _Ooh, how exciting.”_ Their eyes were wide as moons, full of wonder. “ _That explains why you looks so sweaty and dishevelled.”_

The comment stunned him enough that he didn’t have time to respond before Engisn Fearon had gotten through several more sentences.

“ _Is it senior officer espionage training? That would make sense. The stuff you guys get to do is just wild! Faking betrayals, and trying to murder fellow officers. I even heard that there’s secret training for senior officers where you learn how to have safe sex with your enemy, which seems like, super impractical, but also soooo freaking cool at the same time. Is that a real thing?”_

“Pardon me?”

“ _The sex protocol. Is that really a part of the training?”_ They raised a brow. “’ _Cause if so, I’m definitely going to study up for senior track placement.”_

“Oh. Ah…?” Jim cleared his throat, more than a little awkwardly. “No. It’s not something that’s… adjudicated. More of…You know, you can speak to Lieutenant Uhura about that tomorrow. I have to go.”

“ _Oh, right! Sure thing! Happy training! Do that espionage. Kick some alien—”_

“Kirk out.”

He cut off the transmission.

As soon as the screen went dark, Jim released his captain’s persona with a sigh. He should probably notify Uhura about the impending firestorm of questions to come from Fearon. And issue some kind of notice about speaking too casually to superiors.

_I’m not that sweaty, am I?_

A quiet sound came from the bedroom.

At once, the situation at hand rushed back into focus. The roleplay, the abrupt ending, the tears.

Oh, poor Spock.

Jim hastened across the room, to where he could see Spock’s outline, hidden partially by the wall, and the lattice grating that separated his bed from the rest of the cabin.

Spock looked up at him. A tinge of green lingered beneath his eyes, evidence of the emotion that had been there. Still, his gaze, and expression were steady.

“I hope this particular practicum will not be in use with any of your other trainees, captain.”

Jim grinned. “I don’t think so. After all, it was built to serve two very particular officer’s needs.” A hum; recognition. “Although, I think it might need a few alterations.”

He sat beside Spock, maybe a bit closer than he’d meant to. Their knees brushed; his hands settled close to where Spock’s anchored in the sheets.

“Are you alright, darling?”

Spock nodded lightly, though he didn’t look up into Jim’s expression, kept his gaze on the space between them.

“I have recovered. I was merely overwhelmed with the realism of your struggle, despite our mutual understanding of the scenario. I have reminded myself that it was a facsimile, and that my emotional reaction was misplaced. Again, I apologize for interrupting our training.”

Training. The word had been funny, cute an hour ago, when they had been planning their intimate explorations. Now, the joke had lost its humour.

Jim shook his head.

“It wasn’t training. We both know that. I should have never tied this to duty.”

“I do not agree, captain. It is an effective way to ensure our privacy. A ‘loop-hole’ in the fraternization policy permits us what would otherwise negatively affect our service records. Indeed, there is no other means of practicing the possibility of engaging in intercourse with a hostile party, which Starfleet does list as one of its trainable espionage skills. According to such technicalities, we have merely experimented in that regard.”

“A pretty poor experiment.”

Spock frowned.

“I was under the impression you enjoyed yourself, captain. Am I to understand you did not?”

“No. Er, I mean, yes, I did,” Jim amended quickly, seeing Spock’s dark brows shoot up his forehead in alarm. His hands braced Spock’s shoulders. “You’re wonderful. I loved the game we were playing. It’s just that I don’t think you did too.”

Jim ran his hands downward, sliding over the smooth fabric of Spock’s uniform, the cool musculature beneath. As he did, he could feel the slightest hum of thought at the back of his mind, like a distant note carried across the wind.

“Tonight was a lot to ask. We both know this wasn’t your fantasy we were indulging, and not one you would have ever jumped for without me pushing you to it.”

“You did not push me, _ashayam_.”

“Then I influenced you. Convinced you.”

Spock’s eyes glimmered. “Neither of which are crimes.”

Jim got the sense that he was arguing for a losing cause. That there was nothing really at fault, nothing to defend, or repair. But still, he didn’t quite feel at ease.

He sighed, let go.

“I wish we hadn’t called it training. It’s not… like, what you said in the game – that I move from toy to toy, that I only love you because you offer me pleasure. I’m not training you to please me. As though you’re just a…”

The word couldn’t even be conjured. Because the sentiment behind it was so counter to everything he saw in Spock. Against every feeling in every fibre of his being. 

“Jim.” Spock’s voice was warm. A hand moved to Jim’s cheek, stroked it with a tenderness that wiped away all the harsher touches that had come before. “We are equals. I would not be with you if I felt you were tyrannical, or selfish. Nor would I enjoy pleasing you as much as I do.” He lifted a brow. “And I do enjoy it, captain.”

Jim softened. _Melted._

“I love you,” he whispered. He let the words kiss Spock’s hand, a benediction, and an apology. “You’re my soul. My everything. It was just the idea that I could make you believe I didn’t—”

“You have not.” A gentle, assuring brush of his fingers, travelling from temple to jaw. “ _K’hat’n’dlawa._ I know your mind, and how you have loved me. It is why I love you.”

A breath, full of relief and love, escaped him. Jim reached up and clutched his hand.

Spock produced a soft sound. “Perhaps our exercise has improved my espionage skills after all, if I was able to convince you of so obvious a lie.”

Jim laughed. “Finally something we can note on the record.”

“Indeed.”

Pulling away, he pressed a kiss to Spock’s hand. 

“You are really recovered? Because if you’re shaken up about it, I understand.”

“I am fine.” A slight lift of the brow. “I am also willing to return to our roles, if that is still desirable.”

It was. A flicker of the prior flame sparked at the offer, and the astute gaze of the Vulcan offering it.

“You’d be ok with that? I know your counterpart isn’t the most pleasant role.”

“His attitudes are not congruent with my own, certainly. However, it is not entirely disagreeable to impersonate him. Indeed, I believe I am becoming more competent in personifying villainous characters. Would you not agree?”

“Oh, most definitely. And I’m very glad to see it. Almost makes our ‘training’ worthwhile, huh?”

“Certainly.” Spock very nearly smirked. “If I may say, captain, your pedagogical influences are remarkably effective.”

Jim chuckled, feeling himself blush. “Oh, I bet you say that to all the captains.”

They kissed; Jim locking them into an embrace. He felt a hand drift down the length of his back.

Yet, he pressed a staying hand into Spock’s chest.

“Let’s…take this slowly, ok? I want a bit of time with the real you before I have to face your counterpart again.”

“As you please.”

Whatever was left of Jim’s resolve melted.

Letting himself be pushed back into the bed, Jim sighed, as Spock’s strong, beautiful body moved atop of his own. The fabric of his shirt was lifted up and over his head.

( _And it stayed in one piece!_ Already this was so much better the second time around).

Jim slid his arms around Spock, holding him close as he began to kiss over his jaw, down his collarbone. His wide, cool palms traced up over Jim’s torso, smoothing over the swell of his belly. Jim giggled, a little because of the ticklish sensation, even more so at the low purr of contentment that responded.

“Your laughter has such distinct auditory qualities. I am always satisfied to have provoked it.”

“Mm. You do a wonderful job. Oh!”

Jim arched into him, as Spock’s ministrations dipped lower. His hands slid past the waistband of Jim’s briefs, thumbs running over the curve of where hip hollowed into pelvis. The touch was light enough that shivers scattered up and down his body.

“Yes,” Jim breathed, as Spock’s lips closed gently over one of his nipples. The warm lap of his tongue drew a moan from him. “Oh, yes, Spock, just like that, yes.”

A small hum. “I much prefer hearing you say that word than its opposite.”

Distantly, Jim noted how sweet Spock was, appreciating consent and enthusiasm so openly. However, he was feeling too turned on to really focus on the finer details of his partner’s winning personality.

“Oh, Spock. Spock! We should…do the role-play stuff.”

Spock looked up from Jim’s chest.

“You have been suitably stimulated by me?”

Jim laughed, drifted a hand to pass against Spock’s cheek.

“If the other Spock doesn’t get here soon, I’ll have no choice but to let you make love to me. And that just wouldn’t be regulation, would it?”

Spock tilted his head, considerately. “No, indeed, it would not.”

In one sweeping motion, Jim found himself lifted up, pulled forward, so that he was straddling Spock’s lap.

“Captain Kirk.” Spock’s voice dropped deeper, and Jim heard his own breath shake with excitement. “You shall not escape from me this time.”

The world flipped once more, plunging again into darkness. Ensnared in his enemies arms, powerless, helpless. His only choice was to submit to his dark will.

Choice…

“Oh, you fiend,” Jim gasped, gripping Spock’s shoulders. “You villain. What have you done to me?”

“I have captured you. I should think that would be self-explanatory.”

“No.” Jim shook his head fiercely, shutting his eyes. “No, I…I’m sick. Oh, God. What’s happening to me?”

“You are ill?” Spock’s hands moved to his waist, steadied him. In a quiet, far less seductive voice, he murmured, “Did the rapid movement between positions cause you to become light-headed? If so, I do apologize. We may take a moment to recover, if—”

“No, no.”

Jim cupped his face in his hands.

“You wicked man. I curse the day I underestimated your powers. You’ve robbed me of everything I have - even my own heart.”

A glint of realization flashed through Spock’s dark eyes.

“Ah.”

Curling a hand around one of Jim's, Spock led it to his lips.

“I see my poison has finally taken hold upon you, captain. I am most gratified. I had begun to believe you would remain obtuse to my charms forever.”

“My drink. At the meeting. You laced it with something, didn’t you?”

“Perhaps.” Spock flicked his tongue against one of the pad of Jim’s fingertips. A smirk twisted his mouth at Jim’s audible gasp. “Or perhaps I simply knew of your latent desires and acted upon them. Neither escapes the realm of possibility.”

The fire had rekindled in his belly, only this time, having burnt not so long before, the blaze caught quicker. Jim’s eyes rolled to the ceiling, as Spock began to kiss down the length of his palm, his wrist, beyond.

“What is to become of me?” he sighed, trying to hold himself in the scenario, and not dissolve immediately in his hands. “You have my ship. You have my life. What more can I give you?”

“An exquisite question.”

Jim couldn’t stop himself from crying out, as Spock bit down on his neck. His arms shot around his head, holding him to his chest, trying not to writhe at the blissful pain.

“I shall accept the surrender of any part of you. Such as this.” Spock placed a teasing kiss over where there would surely be a bruise. “Or this.” He nosed into his cheek, his teeth nipping beneath his ear. “And even more, if I may seize it.”

Jim moaned, losing all thought to the climbing urge for Spock’s touch, to be touched.

“Or perhaps you tire of these dalliances.”

Suddenly, Spock’s hands skated down his back, plunged beneath Jim’s clothing. They gripped his buttocks.

“Tell me what to take.”

And Jim came undone.

Hips shot forward, grinding into Spock’s belly, his pelvis. At the same time, Jim’s head threw backward; hands clutched the front of Spock’s shirt with wild desperation.

“ _Me_ ,” he begged, barely recognizing his own voice through the need, and the oppressive heat of his mind, his desire. “Please, fuck me. Spock, I need you. I want you – take me, make me yours!”

“ _Jim_.”

The word reverberated through his stomach, making Jim shudder, and exhale, and _ache_ for him even more.

Thumbs hooked around his waistband, peeling his pants and underwear to his knees. The faint warmth of Spock’s palms, flat and broad, running over his thighs sent a flutter of arousal through him, and Jim felt himself buck forward once more, slick with want.

“Spock,” he gasped. Heaven and earth, why wasn’t he on him already? “Spock, please.”

“I am aware. Bear with me.”

Jim looked at him, blinking through his daze. He saw that Spock had retrieved the dildo from the nightstand, was fumbling with the clasps.

Spock flashed him a wry glance. “I had not expected to be received with such fervour. Nor so soon.”

In spite of himself, Jim laughed. “Me either. Here.”

He snapped the last fastening closed. The dildo was shifted into the middle of Spock’s waist. They looked up at each other, a moment of reality, of silent confirmation.

Then, they dove back into the depths.

Jim was dragged forward, his cheek came to Spock’s shoulder. His knees settled on either side of Spock’s waist; he took the moment to shuck his pants fully off his legs.

“Do it,” he whispered, placing a messy, uncoordinated kiss on Spock’s jaw. “Take me.”

“No.”

When he pulled back, confused, Spock’s expression was dangerously triumphant.

“I have nothing to prove to you, Kirk. You are the one who claims to have been seduced. If you are so certain of that, then prove it.”

He jerked his hips upward. The head brushed over Jim’s sex, making him moan wantonly.

“Take yourself.”

It was the ultimate indignity. He could see it in the counterpart’s eyes – this was a cruel, calculated power play. Captured, conquered, and now, after Spock had made him need him, he was told to fuck himself. He was worse than a plaything. He was defeated.

And it was thrilling.

Lining himself up, Jim slowly lowered himself onto him. Inch by inch, fuller and fuller; his thighs spreading over this man’s hips, opening himself, laying himself bare before the altar of his enemy.

“Good.” His captor’s voice crooned, as though praising a pet. “Take your pleasure.”

He needed no more encouragement.

Arching his body, he drew the shaft in and out. At first, slow enough that he could track each ounce of friction against him, the intoxicating feeling of absence and then stretching to ensconce it again. He stared at the base, watched it disappear into himself over and over. Drilled the thought into his veins. _I’m fucking him. I have him in me._ Deeper, growing in speed.

Spock reclined back upon the bed, his hands resting on Jim’s knees. A small sound escaped him.

“You are hiding your face. You will look at me.”

“Why?” Jim panted, but looked up nonetheless. He gritted his teeth, his pace beginning to accelerate. “Afraid that you’re not good enough for me?”

Spock did not respond to that. He traced a small serpentine pattern over one of Jim’s knees.

“You are mine _._ I have the right to see your expression when I make you come.”

And he thrust his hips upward into Jim.

It was uncontrollable. Jim spasmed, clenched, clutching Spock’s arms as he rode him. Every miniscule sensation destroyed him, remade him, destroyed him once more. Somewhere, near the dizzying peak, he felt himself buckle forward. Spock grabbed him by the hair, held his face upward, but Jim kept his eyes shut, lost in a world of depraved ecstasy.

With a cry, Jim felt his orgasm burst through him, cascading in a rush of heat and delicious release.

“Spock,” he panted. He turned his head, dragged the side of his face against the arm holding him up. “Spock. God, yes. You are so—”

Quickly, however, he found himself caught in Spock’s clutches, pulled upward.

“You are not permitted to use my given name. I have conquered you. You are not my equal.”

Jim retained enough of his role to laugh. Gripping Spock’s arms for support, he mustered himself onto his knees, glaring up at him the whole while.

“You don’t seriously expect me to bow down to you? I’m not going to call you master, or anything of the sort.”

“No. Such antiquated phrases hold no appeal. However…”

Spock ran his thumb over Jim’s lips.

“You may call me captain.”

Every inch of his body was set ablaze.

“ _Oh_.” At the twitch of Spock’s brow, Jim let free a sound of unabashed, utter vulgarity. “Yes, captain.”

The thumb that had been teasing at his mouth breached his lips. Jim closed around it, sucking, licking the pad. He flicked his gaze upward, batted his eyelashes flirtatiously when he saw the distinct shift of Spock’s expression.

Jim withdrew for a moment. “Am I serving you well, captain?” he purred, letting the word ghost into his hand, teasing him with their closeness.

A shiver. “Yes.” Then, Spock’s voice grew softer. “J-Jim. It is not necessary for you to—”

“Please you? I know.” Jim pressed his lips fully to Spock’s palm, a curl of satisfaction winding through him at the gasp it elicited. “This may be my fantasy, Mr. Spock. That doesn’t mean I don’t fantasize about making you feel good, too.”

A hint of most un-wicked blush lit Spock’s cheeks. His gaze darted downward. Gruffly, he muttered, “You are supposed to refer to me as captain.”

Jim smiled. “Yes, of course. Forgive me.”

“No, I shall not.”

Spock pulled his hand away sharply. In an instant, Jim found himself caught up in his arms.

“Er, blueberry pie – I simply wish to confirm,” Spock murmured, softly, into the space between them. “I mean to progress to scenario two, as before. You are still amenable?”

“More than amenable.”

A nod.

Then, Jim was spun around, his hands coming forward to stop himself from collapsing into the bed. His adversary seized Jim by the hips, yanked him upward to his pelvis.

“I brook no disobedience from my subordinates. You belong to me. You will beg for my forgiveness, or you will be punished.”

Really, if he had any character integrity at all, Jim should be panicked, furious, or at least putting up that façade.

Well, screw that. 

He glanced over his shoulder, grinning.

“Make me.”

A growl; Jim couldn’t stop himself from giggling in delight.

“Obey me.”

His thighs were pried apart.

“Beg for me.”

The hard curve of his shaft slid between his folds, rubbing backward and forward. Jim’s breath caught in his throat. The head kept finding his clit, smothering it with an insistent, excruciating pressure. He was shuddering, falling apart.

“Uhnn… Spock.”

He drew away. The hands on his waist gripped him, fingers digging mercilessly into his flesh.

“That is not my name.”

“Captain,” he gasped. Dropping onto an elbow, Jim fumbled for his sex with his other hand, foggy with need. “Captain, please!”

“Please, what?”

“Please, f—”

He stopped, crying out as Spock tore his hand away, wrestled his other one above his head. Face pushed into the sheets, pinioned, feeling Spock’s weight bearing down upon him again, Jim felt himself crumble to dust.

“Fuck me. Take all of me. I need you so badly.”

“Hm. That is an improvement.”

Spock let go of Jim’s hands, ran his own over the length of Jim’s full body: arms, back, hips, coming to knead the flesh of his buttocks.

“You are an exquisite prize. I shall enjoy claiming you.”

Angling his hips upward, Spock thrust into him.

Oh, _yes._

Pretence didn’t matter anymore. There was no point in masking the tidal waves of euphoria crashing over them. Every last bit of friction, whether within, or the external casing of Spock’s body against his own, felt so, so right.

He surrendered. His hands curled into fists, beating their pounding rhythm into the mattress. His head lolled side to side; he was blind, adrift, torn apart.

“Ahh!” A hand was stroking the sensitive flesh that surrounded his clit. Jim humped forward into it. “Yes, captain, oh my God, yes! Just like that, oh, don’t—oh, God, don’t stop!”

He was babbling, kept babbling as they climbed higher and higher, Spock’s calloused fingers, the cock filling him, ravishing him.

“Oh, Spock!” The game fell apart, he was forgetting the rules, lost, swept away in the radiating pleasure of this as he began to come. “Ohhh, yes, Spock, yes!”

It shuddered through him in waves, each peal of climactic ecstasy giving way to the next. For a moment, he didn’t see, couldn’t hear his own cries, only felt and felt and felt. His senses returned only to find Spock still rutting into him, having never slowed their pace. Jim slipped his hands over Spock’s, helped them coax the last few ripples of pleasure through him.

“Grant me one more luxury.”

The words were husky, and whether with desire or exertion, Jim couldn’t tell. Either way, he nearly whimpered at the order, only just holding together.

“An-anything.”

“Permit me to…love you.”

Jim slowed his pace, felt the hands and body withdraw, but not retreat. It wasn’t clear if this was still part of their game. He decided to proceed with caution.

“What do you mean?” He felt Spock’s face drift past his shoulder; Jim turned his head to offer a gentle nuzzle. “I thought you didn’t need my permission, captain.”

A warm gust of breath, a laugh, spread over his upper back. Soft lips graced the skin of his shoulder.

“I do not.”

As he continued to speak, Spock’s hands wandered over Jim’s prone body – massaging his back, tracing the line of his shoulders, thumbing down his neck. Tender, yet still in power.

“I have been considering what you said before about my relationship with my own Jim. You were correct. I do envy your universe.” A small hum. His thumb traced over a spot on Jim’s back, which he distantly remembered the knife pressing against a half an hour ago. “There was no room for such a relationship as you and your own Spock entertain, no room for anything but violence and domination. My Kirk thought of me only as a combatant in another battle, nothing more. I—I wish…”

Jim reached back, wrapped his hand around Spock’s wrist.

“I know. We are _t’hy’lara_ , Spock. In any universe.”

“Yes.” And for the first time, Jim heard an echo of his own Spock in this dark counterpart. An echo that yearned for something more. “And now we have only each other – our other selves are gone.”

Jim found himself rolled onto his back, with a gentleness he scarcely dared to believe real.

Above him, Spock’s expression was still cold. There was no doubt that he was still his dominator, his opponent. But the dark eyes shone with a deal more moisture than they had before. 

“Jim.” The back of Spock’s hand brushed his cheek. “There is no greater sin in my universe than to love another. To care for someone beyond oneself. Yet I would commit this sin willingly, if it meant I could win you. Please, tell me you love me. Allow me to make love to you.”

Jim’s chest tightened. There was something unspeakably powerful in knowing that, for all Spock could take, this simple, vulnerable, trembling moment was what he wanted most of all.

“Yes.”

Reaching for him, Jim pulled Spock gently down into his arms.

“Spock, yes.”

Their foreheads pressed together. Jim clutched his face, framed his fingers in the position he had memorized by touch alone. It was not a meld; he was not Vulcan, nor was his mind so strong as to forge the kind of chain that Spock’s could. But the bond sang.

“I love you. I give you my soul. Spock, my beloved. Make love to me.”

“ _T’hy’la_.”

Spock kissed him. For once, Jim’s lips were not captured, his mouth was not plundered. No, he was merely kissed. Yet that was somehow so much better.

Wrapping his arms around him, Jim kissed back, only pausing to whisper his love as many times as he could in the gap between them.

Finally, Spock broke it, pulled back. He reached downward, then in a swift motion had returned to Jim’s embrace. With the press of their bodies, Jim realized the difference.

“Oh—Spock, I think the dildo must have—”

“I removed it.”

Jim glanced up at him, sharply. That had not been in their plans. Spock offered a small lift of his brows, in a more pleading expression than the motion generally elicited.

“I am not comfortable penetrating with my - my own, as we have discussed—but I—I want to please you. _I_ want to, not…”

“Yes.”

Spock nodded, in lieu of the question. Jim nodded, in answer.

“I want that too.”

Where they were in terms of reality and fantasy, it was difficult to say. Jim was swiftly finding that it did not matter. It was both, and neither. Everything, everywhere.

Letting himself be laid back on the bed, Jim watched Spock pulled his uniform shirt over his head. Jim ran a hand up his chest, revelled in the softness of the thick dark hair across it. Spock produced a small sound as Jim traced over a nipple.

“ _Ashayam_.”

He slid his pants down. Came to bracket Jim between his arms. Jim hooked his legs around Spock’s waist, pulled his hips down into him.

They rocked back and forth.

They were travelling home, Jim recognized. Their murmuring was not so heated; their touches feeling so much more like themselves. His neck was being kissed and licked, in a manner that soothed, not claimed. There was no rush to this – this was a descent from the heights of peril, a gentle tending of the wounds that had been opened in sport.

And not just for him. Jim was cognizant of how relaxed Spock’s body felt in his arms. How the brush of Jim’s fingertips over his shoulders, his back made him sigh, pull Jim closer.

Spock needed the same care he did.

“I love you,” Jim sighed, softly. He pressed against Spock’s cheek, mumbling into his ear. “Love you, love you, love you.”

A gentle kiss graced his temple. “You are safe, my _t’hy’la_. You are in my arms.”

When Jim came, it was a far less intense experience than before. Indeed, the satisfaction lapped over him, the warmth seeping out to every extremity. It was so nice – wholly and completely – and nothing more complicated than that.

The moments after passed in a haze of contentment. A few soft words, the feeling of Spock getting up from his side. Mm, how had he never noticed how comfortable this bed was?

Distantly, he felt the gentle brush of a towel; Spock tending to him. He reached for Spock’s hand before he could pull away.

“Thank you for doing this. You mean the world to me.”

The bed dipped. Jim stretched out, searching for Spock’s touch. Strong arms closed around him.

“There is no need to thank me, captain,” he heard Spock’s warm voice say through the cosy fog of sleep and loving thoughts surrounding him, “It was my pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This was my first smut fic, so let me know what you think! Also fyi I’m not trans, so if there is anything I got wrong or uncomfortable in that regard please let me know! <3


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